Tarragona as the muse

I'm told to write what I know 
so here is what I know:
I was scared of the man on the train, the one
snorting lines between the cars.
I was scared he would lose his mind
walk out
and make a tear through my heart 
neither stitches nor therapy could heal
and I am terrified that I think that is believable 
that something like that could happen to me 
because why not
and I am terrified that something as simple
and stupid as a man 
has the power 
to send me back home 
in a box
and I hate that the country I live in
(the one I'm no longer proud to call myself
a citizen of)
has made me think it's entirely possible 
because when the man on the train
reached deep into his jacket
I
instead of looking out the window
at the Mediterranean coast 
I thought of what my next actions would be
if he pulled out a gun.